


The fuck is going on under that table?

by boywentz



Category: Fall Out Boy
Genre: Dom!Patrick, M/M, Oneshot, Peterick, Smut, Sub!Pete, exhibitionism/public sex acts, the plot is barely there, there's serious power bottom vibes from Patrick too
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-10
Updated: 2017-10-10
Packaged: 2019-01-15 15:57:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,322
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12324210
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/boywentz/pseuds/boywentz
Summary: A waitress flirts with Pete and Patrick gets grumpy, so he decides to show Pete who he belongs to... under a table in a crowded diner.-Short, dumb, smutty one-shot





	The fuck is going on under that table?

Patrick giggled as Pete grabbed his wrist and pulled him into a booth at the back of the diner, out of sight from the bar and other customers. The older of the two waved a hand to catch the attention of a waitress, who fluttered her eyelashes and nodded enthusiastically when Pete ordered a milkshake with two straws. Patrick watched with disgust plain on his face as she placed a hand on his boyfriend's shoulder and told him that she'd "be right back, sweetie".

When Pete turned back to Patrick, he stifled a laugh at the strawberry-blonde's evident disgust, and lifted his fedora for a moment to ruffle his fluffy hair lovingly. When Patrick's face didn't soften, Pete frowned before joining the dots. "Pattycakes, you can't seriously be jealous?"

Patrick narrowed his colourful eyes. "She seemed to want your dick enough" he mumbled, and Pete grinned much to Patrick's annoyance. "Patrick, I'm gay, and I have the most intelligent, adorable, talented, sexy boyfriend on the planet."

Patrick couldn't help but smile at that, and he leaned over the table to join his soft lips to Pete's. "Damn right you do" he responded after a moment, and as he glanced down at the tablecloth, his eyes suddenly lit up with an idea. His gaze flicked back up to meet Pete's dark eyes, and the younger man smirked as he knocked his fedora to the floor beneath the table. "Oops!" he declared smugly, before dipping beneath the table to retrieve his hat.

Pete opened his mouth in confusion, having seen Patrick intentionally knock his hat to the ground. But before he could ask his boyfriend what he was playing at, he felt the warmth of Patrick's mouth against his skinny jeans. "P-Patrick, you can't-" he started, but Patrick turned his objection into a soft moan as he mouthed at Pete through his jeans, and Pete felt himself getting hard.

Grateful that he had chosen a seat away from the customers and bar, Pete checked the side of the table - the tablecloth was long enough for no one to see the man knelt between his legs on the diner floor.

Patrick hastily unbuttoned Pete's fly; he wanted Pete totally unraveled by the time the waitress returned, which must be pretty soon; "Not even a slut like her can take more than ten minutes to make a milkshake", he muttered under his breath before finally getting Pete's zipper open. Patrick raised his eyebrows at his lack of underwear before smirking and whispering "bad boy, Petey" just loud enough for Pete to hear.

Pete glanced around anxiously, aware that the waitress could be back any second. Patrick had removed Pete's cock from the confines of his skinny jeans and was stroking his length slowly, slipping one hand into Pete's jeans to massage his balls while the man above him groaned in frustration as he reached full hardness. Pete lifted the tablecloth slightly and risked a glance downward, just in time to see his boyfriend twirl his tongue around the head of his dick, eyes wide and innocent despite the cocky smirk on his sinful lips.

Pete dropped the tablecloth and moaned low in the back of his throat, closing his eyes and dedicating all of his concentration to not bucking his hips as the younger man licked a wet stripe up the side of his cock. When Pete's eyes fluttered open a second later, he was met with the sight of the waitress strutting towards them, hips swaying comically and a vanilla milkshake with extra whipped cream and sprinkles in her hand.

"Fuck, 'Trick- she's coming to our table, you gotta stop," Pete whispered urgently, snaking a hand under the tablecloth to pull at Patrick's hair.

Pete sat up straighter in his seat and forced a pleasant smile onto his face as he hissed at Patrick, "Trick, fucking stop," and he sighed in relief (and, admittedly, slight disappointment) as Patrick's mouth released the head of his cock with a wet 'pop'.

"Here's your milkshake, sir!" the waitress chirped, and Pete could hear Patrick huff in irritation from between his legs. She placed the drink on the table, bending over far more than was necessary - probably hoping to give Pete an eyeful of cleavage, but he couldn't be less interested. Just as she asked where his "friend" had gone, he felt Patrick's lips wrap around his cock, and before he could shuffle away, he hit the back of Patrick's throat. Pete's eyes almost rolled into the back of his head, and his teeth clenched in an attempt to keep quiet.

"The- fuck, uh- sorry, the bathroom" he stuttered, and the oblivious waitress smiled brightly, before sliding a slip of paper into Pete's shirt pocket, winking, and finally walking away. Patrick was not going to appreciate that, but right now, Pete was more concerned about the fact that his boyfriend was deep-throating him under the table.

"Patrick, christ, /stop/" Pete panted, gripping onto the faux leather seat beneath him with sweating palms as he felt his release approaching. The only response he got was Patrick's hand on his thigh, which he grabbed and squeezed, trying to distract himself as he fought off the urge to shout Patrick's name and moan. Patrick pulled off for a moment to catch his breath, but his spare hand immediately wrapped around Pete's length and stroked fast and hard.

"This cock?" Patrick whispered, tonguing the head in between words, "This cock is fucking mine. It belongs to /me/."

Pete nodded and whined high in his throat and grabbed Patrick's hair urgently as his mouth returned to sucking the tip of his cock. He was aching for release at this point, all qualms about how inappropriate the current situation was had left as soon as those words left Patrick's lips.

"P-Patrick, can I come? Please baby, you have to let me come-" Pete was cut off by the sight of his cock sliding out from between Patrick's soft pink lips as he glanced underneath the table cloth, the younger of the two holding intense eye contact as Pete squirmed above him.

"Tell me who you belong to, and I'll think about it."

Pete moaned, far too loudly considering their surroundings. Thank fuck the diner was almost empty.

"/Fuck/, you Patrick, I belong to you, I'm yours. God- please let me come, I've been a good boy-"

Patrick opened his mouth, still jerking Pete hard, and sat back on his heels. He couldn't help but feel satisfied at how quickly he'd reduced his boyfriend to begging, with just his mouth and a few clever words.

"Come for me, baby..." he murmured, his tongue grazing Pete's slit, and that was all the older man could handle before he was coming hard into Patrick's open mouth. A string of loudly-whispered profanities mixed with Patrick's name fell from his lips as his head fell back against the seat, and he let out a breath he didn't know he'd been holding.

After sucking Pete dry and tucking his cock back into his jeans, Patrick's flushed face peeked over the other side of the table as Pete lay slumped against his seat in post-orgasmic bliss. He sat up and waved his fedora at Pete, giggling innocently at the sight of his pink-cheeked, sweating boyfriend. The dominance Patrick had shown just 30 seconds ago was completely gone, and the sweet, butter-wouldn't-melt man in front of Pete baffled him slightly before he could even catch his breath.

"Found it!" Patrick exclaimed, returning his fedora to his seriously messed-up hair before taking a sip of the milkshake between them, prompting Pete to do the same. After a cliché moment of staring into eachother's eyes lovingly, Pete dragged a thumb over Patrick's darkened, slightly-swollen bottom lip, brushing away a droplet before absent mindedly sucking his thumb. Patrick giggled again, and Pete cocked his head questioningly until Patrick managed to squeak out "That wasn't milkshake, Pete."


End file.
